THE ENEMY KING'S CONTRACT LUNA

LORELAI. My husband hadn't looked at me in three years. Not really at least. He barely spared me a glance in a way anyone could describe as loving. And to an extent, I preferred it that way. His affection had been gone so long I had stopped noticing the absence, the way you stopped noticing a scar once it finished hurting. Right now, he was looking at his mistress just fine though. Her name was Ellara, and she was sitting directly across from me, at my breakfast table, in the chair I had picked out when I still believed this house was mine, watching him cut meat for their son like she had been sitting there for years. Yeah, you heard me right… their son. The little boy's name was Caius. He was three years old and he had my husband Madox’s face so completely that it almost hurt looking at the boy. He had my husband’s jaw, his eyes, the instilled mannerisms in him that made looking at him confirm every single thing I had tried to ignore about my marriage for the last three years. I picked up my fork and tried to eat through the nausea rolling through me. Ellara leaned toward Madox, rubbing his arm and not bothering to lower her voice as she asked him in a sultry tone, "Do you think he looks more like me or you?" Madox looked at the boy with an openness I had spent the first year of our marriage desperately trying to earn. "Me," he said. "Obviously." "Obviously," she repeated, laughing, and when he grinned lovingly at her, I set my fork down. "I want a girl next." He said it easily and unbothered, without showing a trace of awareness that his wife was sitting six feet away. "I want to see what we make when we're trying for a daughter." The sound of Ellara's laugh settled somewhere deep in my chest I wish it hadn't reached. There were about twenty of our staff and maids lining the walls to eh dining area, but Madox used them like an audience, adding further insult to the wound as he let everyone who worked in this palace witness him drag our marriage through the mud so publicly. I’d had enough of this s**t. I pushed my chair back, moving to get up. The maid nearest me moved to take my plate, but Madox's hand came up immediately, stopping her in her tracks. We both went still at the same time. Madox barely spared me a glance as he said, "If my wife wants to leave the table early, she can take her plate to the kitchen herself." My hands curled into fists at my sides. I reached for my plate, but Ellara turned to look at me for first time all morning, and there was nothing in her face that resembled discomfort or remorse. She slid her plate toward me, then added Caius's on top. "Would you mind taking mine and my sons while you're at it?" Madox laughed lowly and pulled her into his side, his mouth finding her neck. "You're trouble," he murmured, and his hand slid down and grabbed her ass, squeezing while she laughed and pressed into him. I stood there at my own table holding a stack of dishes that didn't belong to me, heat crawling up my throat at the sheer, deliberate crassness of it. He knew exactly what he was doing. He always did. His eyes found mine over her shoulder and stayed there. He wasn't angry. He wasn't guilty. He was just watching me the way you watched something you had already broken, curious whether any pieces were still responsive to your abuse. I had been twenty years old when my father handed me to him. My father was Daniel Moone, an alpha who had three sons and one daughter and had spent decades figuring out what use the daughter could be. When Madox came asking for my hand in marraige, my father didn't hesitate. My brothers, who had never bothered to learn the sound of my voice growing up, suddenly found me very interesting once they understood what my marriage bought them. A family tie with one of the most powerful men in our werewolf world. I had been terrified of Madox at first, his power, his reputation, the sheer weight of what he was. He was an Alpha King, the sole ruler of every single wolf in North America. But he had been kind to me back then. Genuinely, convincingly kind. Warm in a way that made me lower every wall I had and believe, stupidly and completely, that I was safe. That he could love me the way I grew to love him. Three months. That was how long his kindness lasted. After that came the women. Then the violence, his hands and fists raining down on me whenever he wanted to pass a message across. The first time he hit me, what stayed with me wasn't the pain. It was his face afterward, terrifyingly observant and just as unremorseful, a man taking careful notes on exactly how much it took to make me come apart. He changed so badly that I was disappointed in myself for ever thinking he was a good man. I picked up the plates and walked to the kitchen before throwing them roughly into the sink. I stood there with both palms pressed flat against the cold marble, staring at nothing, trying to remember what it felt like to be a person who had somewhere to go when things got bad. I breathed through the pain, because there was nothing else I could do. There was no escaping this. I was Luna of North America. A title I had carried for three years, performed without fault, held onto even as he stripped everything else away. But it was all a f*****g joke. I was standing in my own kitchen doing the dishes of the woman my husband was sleeping with and every single staff in that dining room had watched my humiliation happen. And every single one of them would remember it tomorrow, because this was just another Tuesday in Madox Roclaw's house. Standing here now, I remembered my mother had cried at my wedding. I used to think she was happy for me back then. But I understood now that she had seen what I couldn’t. How terrible this life would be. I would have given almost anything to call her right now and tell her she had been right. But I couldn't call her. Madox had taken that from me four months into our marriage, the first time I had gone to her in pieces and come back with enough courage to tell him I knew about the women. He had listened to everything I said and then, very quietly, told me I was not to contact my mother again. He forbade me from ever leaving the palace grounds without an escort and guards, ones that would definitely report back to him if I disobeyed his orders. He had spent a lot of time learning what I loved so he would know exactly what to take away from me. I washed the dishes, dried my hands and walked upstairs before sitting on the edge of my bed and looking at the room around me. It used to feel like a cage, but now it felt like the only place in this house where I could breathe without calculating the cost of it. Madox had stopped coming here and I had stopped pretending that hurt me. What hurt was what had come before everything fell apart. Now I was just floating through the motions of being married to a monster. The door opened without a knock. I held my breath. Madox walked in with the ease of a man who had never once in his life needed permission to enter a room, his gaze traveling the space like he was running inventory on something that belonged to him. I straightened before I could stop myself. My body had learned things my mind was still ashamed of. He stopped at the foot of the bed. "You remember the gala I’m hosting to invite the seven rulers by the end of this week?” Every year, a ball was held by one of the seven rulers of the werewolf realm to recall alliances and socialize on the level of elites. This year was Madox’s turn to host his co-rulers. "Yes," I said. "Good." He took a slow sip from the glass of whiskey in his hand. "You won't be attending. I held his gaze, my brows furrowing in confusion. “But you’re the host. It would be improper––“ “I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t proper.” He stepped closer and I kept my chin up even as everything in me pulled tight. "Ellara will be at my side that night. As well as my son. Every wolf of consequence in this world will walk through those doors and they will see my family." His eyes moved over my face without a trace of anything. "You will not embarrass me by showing up and reminding anyone that you exist. Stay in your room, stay out of my way, and do not let me find you anywhere near that gala. Are we clear?" I said nothing. My heart was pounding in my chest. Was he really going to take it that far? Embarrassing and belting me publicly around North America wasn’t enough for him? Now he wanted to show the world how much of a joke he thought I was? “I asked you a question, Lorelai." His voice was thin, bare of any patience or warmth. "Crystal," I bit out. He held my gaze one moment longer, and a slow smirk spread across his features as he shook his head softly. Like I was so easy. Like I was so compliant. His to toy with and torment. I sat in the quiet and breathed as he turned around and walked away. My mind raced as I thought of what to do. The best course of action was to do nothing. But I was tired of doing nothing. I shoved off the bed, got up and went to my wardrobe. He could tell me not to show my face all he wanted. I was going to that gala.